


Third Time's The Charm

by Godspeed_Cowboy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asshole Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider, Bugs & Insects, Dave is albino and blind as all fuck, Dirk Strider and Dave's Bro Aren't the Same Person, Gen, Haunting, Horror, Paranormal, SO, Supernatural Elements, Trans Dave Strider, Weird Plot Shit, Weirdness, a lovely headcanon from val, accidental bug consumption, all the striders are, author is trans and nd so do not get on me bout anythin, but like, dave being in denial up until the last second lmao, don't mean he's any good tho lol, first chapter is kinda meh but, he's also not neurotypical but I will not clarify what he has lol, he's not abusive really but he is a bit of a dick, idk it's a weird limbo type deal, it's not relevant to the story much but Dave is trans, june and dave are trans besties, just know that it's kinda based on me, no beta we die, shrugs, strange, the trolls n all them still exist, this is set in an AU where sburb don't happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godspeed_Cowboy/pseuds/Godspeed_Cowboy
Summary: The terrifying haunting of one Dave Strider.orA gift for my friend Val, heavily inspired by their work "The Convenience Store"
Relationships: Dave Strider & Karkat Vantas, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider & Dave Strider, Dirk Strider & Dave Strider, Jade Harley & Dave Strider, June Egbert & Dave Strider, Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider, davekat is like. lightly implied to happen soon lol
Kudos: 2





	Third Time's The Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valerian_valentine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valerian_valentine/gifts).



> So yeah! This work is heavily inspired by my friend Val's work, The Convenience Store! It's a really good DaveKat fic, with top notch nasty horror and I highly recommend it! Please go check it out!!!
> 
> I listened to lemon demon and ate pixie stixs while writing this and it's also completely unbetad and unedited so I apologize for any mistakes or character writing lol this is kinda bad but I also rlly rlly like The Convenience Store a lot ahaha

There’s something . . . _Off_ about the apartment today, and Dave can’t figure out what it is.

And it’s getting a bit fucking frustrating.

See, he’s had this feeling ever since he woke up about three hours ago, at around four in the damn morning. Which sucked, because it was so early and because he wanted to sleep in, but no, fate just had to be an ass and yank him by his ankles out of dreamland with the force of Hurricane Katrina.

Well, he would have preferred that, but no, instead of something exciting happening, something cool that would have made him hop out of bed like superman, he had just. Woken up. For no reason. And felt so off the entire time! God, what was with today? Was it because it was a Wednesday? Probably because it was a Wednesday, Wednesdays were weird days. Even the day itself was spelt weird, we-di-nes-day, wedinesday. Wasn’t even pronounced how it was spelled. Ha. Stupid wedenesdenesday. Or whatever. Ugh.

Back to the point. Woke up early for no reason, everything feels weird. Also for no reason. Well. But- . . . _Well-_

Maybe there was a reason. Just one, a slight one, an itty bitty one, nothing big, nothing bad.

‘Cause see, felt like he was being watched. 

Not the entire time he’s been awake but just . . . Every, oh, thirty minutes? Periodically? It felt like something was just. Watching. It didn’t make him uncomfortable, not really. There wasn’t any ill intent felt and nothing happened to him at all, plus it didn’t really stick around for long. Like, it was there for five minutes or something and then, poof! Gone!

But it was still unnerving as hell to feel eyes on him from the shadows in the corners or the abyss of his closet.

Then again, it was the dark. And when he was a little, he used to hate it with such a passion that he refused to even sleep with the lights off for a while.

Dave groans internally at the thought of his old fear coming back to haunt him like some vengeful spirit.

Whatever, he can just mess with his phone until there’s light, because he doesn’t want to get up and try walking in the darkness and it would be a hassle to just get up and turn on the lights while blind as a bat. He’s been fucking around with Angry Birds for the past hour, and he’s intent on getting past the current level without using every bird. 

After several failed attempts at not using any of the red birds, he loses count after the sixtieth try, there’s a sudden knocking on his bedroom door that startles him enough to drop his phone on his face and realize that the sun is up at last.

“Ow . . .” he mutters.

The door opens and Bro pokes his head in, a colorless blob. Dave fumbles for a minute or two, grabbing his shades off the nightstand and shoving them onto his face so the older Strider doesn’t look like some background character in one of those fancy ass oil paintings.

Sure enough, once his eyes adjust, everything comes into focus. And there’s Bro, with a smirk on his face that tells Dave that he knew he made the youngest flail for a hot minute. Asshole.

“Asshole,” he grumbles, voicing the thought.

Bro doesn’t comment on it and instead just knocks on his wall.

“Rise ‘n shine, shithead,” he drawls, southern twang thick and his voice still raspy with sleep. Once he’s more awake, he’ll start hiding his accent like he usually does.

Dave lets out a moan akin to a zombie’s to let him know he heard. And with that, Bro takes his leave, padding down the hall into the kitchen, content with letting Dave stumble about while he got his bearings together.

He rolls over onto his face and sighs. He really should get up. One warning was all he needed unless he wanted Bro to run in here hootin’ and hollerin’ like a rooster on ecstasy for all the neighbors to hear at fuck-o-clock in the morning (seven o’ clock or somewhere near there), ready to beat him within an inch of his life using only a pillow, in the next five minutes. All if he didn’t get up.

He slides down onto the floor and sits there for a second before he shakes his head, clearing it like an etch-a-sketch, standing up.

To which he nearly falls over back on his ass, and damn, he should know better than to stand up so fast unless he wanted to go _completely_ blind for a few seconds and get a headache. Vertigo mixed with iron deficiency, a bitch to deal with. Speaking of which, he should snag some gummy vitamins from their little medicine basket on top of the fridge, it’s been a good while since he’s last tasted the delicious but medically limited fruit snacks. Maybe a few months? Should he be worried about that? 

. . . Eh, probably not, it’s a normal thing for teens to have wack levels of chemicals, right? Right.

He hobbles out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen where Bro is getting the milk out, probably for cereal. Bro spares him a glance and sends him another smirk as Dave settles on one of their mismatched chairs at their dirty little table. He has to knock a couple of puppets out of his way, the jerks, acting like they have a right to sit in his comfortable throne of cheap dollar store paint and duct tape repairs. Unlike Dave, Bro’s already dressed for the day, white polo and classic black jeans parallel to Dave’s oversized t-shirt and stupid little briefs, and will most likely leave as soon as he’s finished eating. His hair looks a little damp, meaning he took a shower, which meant Dave would have to wait for the water to heat back up.

“Mornin’, lil man. Sleep well?”

Dave huffs, but he answers.

“You bet. Slept like a sleeping beauty who had melatonin and chloroform cocktail before passing the fuck out,” he says, sarcasm laced in that last bit, and Bro hears it because he gets a _look_ sent his way.

“Somethin’ happen last night?”

“Nah, just woke up at the ass crack of dawn.”

They both share a quiet, abrupt chuckle.

Dave does not mention that he felt like he was being watched during the night. He was fourteen, dammit, he refused to be afraid of the dark. Fourteen year old Dave was better than five year old Dave. He wasn’t no baby, wasn’t gonna crawl into his Bro’s bed just because he felt like he was about to get yoinked under his mattress by his toes.

Bro starts to talk again as he pulls down a box of Trix from one of the metal racks against the wall. Some ninja stars fall out after it and clatter to the floor, and he kicks them under the edge of the out-of-place shelf.

“Always great for kids your age. You gotta start gettin’ up early again, school is gonna be comin’ up pretty soon and I wanna get you started on earlier strifes here in a bit, I’m talkin’ before six in the mornin’. Hey, I saw that, don’t give me no stink eye, or I’ll paint dicks all over your posters again.”

Dave shudders at that memory, knowing it wasn’t some empty threat. 

So many dicks. Dicks everywhere. Even on his _face_.

Bro sees his shiver as he opens a drawer, hiding a small smile with the turn of his head. He’s always more loose with his emotions in the mornings, softer. You just had to be awake early enough to catch him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now get a couple bowls from the cabinet, will ya? Already got the spoons ‘n shit out.”

Dave hops off his chair, “Can you get the vitamins? Uh, please? Need some of those today.”

“Sure thing, lil man.”

Dave walks over to one of the cabinets, opens it, shoves a sword out of his way, and pulls out two bowls. They were a bit chipped and dented, but that just meant they were well loved and used everyday. He meets Bro back at the table, who trades him a bottle of sweet, sweet gummies in exchange for the biggest of the two bowls.

Dave scans the bottle for the expiration date as Bro pours himself some cereal.

“Trix are for kids,” he mutters as he squints at the faded digits.

“The Trix bunny can suck it.”

“Sounds kinda gay, Bro.”

“Not as gay as all the dicks on your posters.”

“Nah, if I say no homo, it doesn’t count. You’ll never catch me slippin’ there.”

Dave screws the bottle open and shakes a few vitamins out before he tosses them all in his mouth at once, deciding that possibly expired gummies were better than no gummies at all. 

He pulls the second bowl over and grabs the milk, deciding to pour it first just to mildly piss Bro off as revenge for making him drop his phone on his nose. Shit hurt like a motherfucker and he was feeling a bit petty on this fine morning. 

He grabs the cereal and pours it in next, reveling in the annoyed grunt from across the table.

Ha. One point for Dave, and zero for- Well, technically one for Bro, but shush. Shush.

For the next few minutes, it’s quiet. Just the two of them eating as the sunlight streams in from the window, reflecting off everything in a way that doesn’t make their oh so lovely albino eyes hurt, soft but still bright.

It’s . . . Nice.

It’s also _weird as fuck._ This was not a strange occurrence, no, hell, Dave could even dare to say that they did this almost every morning. But there’s something really weird about it, something that’s making him notice it and focus on it enough to the point where he realizes it’s weird that he’s doing it.

But Bro doesn’t comment on it, so maybe it’s just Dave who feels that way. Or maybe Bro’s mouth is too full of sugary sweet supposed-to-be-cereal cereal. 

But, then again, if Bro won’t comment on it, then neither will Dave, cause if it didn’t bother Bro, then it shouldn’t bother him.

Keyword. _Shouldn’t._ But, oh well.

Bro finishes his cereal first, always the one to rush.

He ruffles Dave’s hair aggressively as he walks by to get to the sink, shoving his head last minute.

When he speaks, his Texan drawl is gone at last and he sounds so monotone that he reminds Dave of those robotic voices in voicemails.

“Gotta go meet with a club manager today in a few, wants to discuss my schedule. Turns out they liked my style and they wanna see how many more gigs they can squeeze outta me.”

Dave gives a thumbs up, too busy fixing his hair and chewing his food to respond.

Bro pats his shoulder when he walks by again, his way of saying something like “goodbye” or “love you” or anything really.

“See you later, little man. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

And then he’s gone, the shutting of the apartment door the last thing he hears of Bro. And Dave is officially alone for the next few hours until he comes back home.

As he eats, he spaces out, thinking about what he could do today.

He should pick up his room, it’s getting messy again, and the dishes are piling up by the day in there. Plus it smells, so he should really spray some air freshener when it’s all clean, if he gets to that today. Or maybe he could talk to Rose or June or Jade and see what’s going on with them. Rose would probably psychoanalyze his brain again if he told her about last night, about eyes he couldn’t see. Ha, classic Rose, always analyzing, he’d probably have to get on her ass about doing her homework or missing assignments again and she’d do the same with him. 

June had mentioned something about a movie she wanted to watch with him, The Magician’s Apprentice or whatever, so maybe he could do that today, it’s been a while since they’ve hung out together with just each other. Of course it’s something nerdy with Nic Cage in it, as he had googled. Jade would send him pictures of Bec doing dumb shit, or she’d show him some new treassure that washed up on her island. The two of them could talk for hours and he’s always thoroughly distracted one way or another, especially if they're talking about something they’re both passionate about.

Maybe he could talk to his older brother Dirk, if he wasn’t too busy. He was off at some fancy little school doing robotics and programming and lord knows what else, and while Dave was happy for him, being able to make his passion into his work, he missed him. A lot. He should video call today, if Dirk could. Dirk missed him, too, no doubt. 

The older Strider was very much a family kind of man, and when he still lived here, he was protective as hell over their little family, especially Dave. His reasoning was that it was because he was the youngest and that he was his little brother, therefore an important part of his world. Which meant he got little sibling privileges, which consisted of stealing his older brother's shit and doing the leg kicky thing when play fighting and getting away with it. Ha. Good times . . .

. . . Damn he misses Dirk. He’s _definitely_ going to call today, even if their schedules would make it hard.

And maybe later he could update his comic? Been a hot minute since the last Sweet Bro And Hella Jeff update and he can tell that some of his fans are getting a bit impatient with it. Ah, but don’t they know? Artistic genius is a process and he might as well be the pinnacle of it. SBAHJ takes time to make, you can’t just rush it or else it will come out looking like the final season of Game of Thrones. SBAHJ was the ceiling of the metaphorical Sistine Chapel and he was his generation’s Michleangelo.

Oh wait, what if he talked to Karkat? Dave bet he’d simply _love_ that little comparison, AKA blow the biggest gasket over it, and it was always fun to push his buttons and see what sets him off for the day. The dude was pretty cool, though. Aggressive and crabby as hell and angry all the time it seemed, but cool, cool enough to hang with the Strider. They’ve been talking for a while now, roughly eight months. 

And Dave might not know much about him like where he’s from or what he looks like or why he has such a weird name and why he never answers those types of questions, but he does know that underneath the bluster and blunder, Karkat was cool and caring and fun to hang out with. The dude likes romcoms, for Heaven’s sake, why, he’s probably even a hopeless romantic. He cried when Dave sent him a picture of a small cartoon crab. He sent Dave something in the mail for his birthday (a lovely sweater that had a smell he couldn’t name) and was stubborn on not letting Dave return the favor. Said it would be a hassle, that his post office won’t be able to get it to him for a reason he refused to tell.

Which didn’t really make sense, considering Karkat was able to send him something. So why Dave couldn’t send a little something in return, he had no clue. But he’d let it slide, for now.

Dave had all sorts of theories on Karkat, ranging from Mafia Member to Government Experiment, and he will find out one of these days. But, until then, he’ll settle for the weird cryptic answers the other gives him. It’s kind of like a puzzle. A weird, slightly frustrating, ridiculously fun puzzle. 

But anyways, as he was saying, he likes Karkat a lot. He hasn’t talked to him either for a bit and he doesn’t doubt that it’s making the other worry so he should help ease his stress by sending something. He’ll do that when he gets dressed.

Speaking of clothes, he’d have to do laundry soon. And shower. It’s been a couple days since he’s showered and his hair is starting to feel greasy again. He cringes, Bro probably felt that earlier. Gross. Stupid hygene, stupid human needs. Why couldn’t he be, like, a plant or something. Plant life seemed so simple. Head empty, no thoughts, just vibes and sunshi-

Dave bites down on his spoon and something crunches, cutting off all other thoughts. 

. . . That should not happen. Because he knows for a fact that his cereal should be soggy by now. 

Slowly, he unclamps his teeth from around the spoon, the mystery thing crunching again with the lack of pressure on it. And just as slow, if not slower, he pulls the spoon out of his mouth. 

Slower still, he looks down to see what it is.

A now-dead stink bug, smushed in half and still twitching, lays in the spoon’s bowl. 

“Eugh!”

He yells, yelps, screams, whatever you want to call it, making a face, lips pulled back in disgust as he drops the spoon.

It clatters against the table as he gets up and rushes over to the sink to rinse out his mouth.

He can feel one of it’s legs, _still twitching_ , in his teeth and taste it’s weird bug blood on his tongue.

Ew. _Ew. EW!_

He spits into the sink, turning on the water and grabbing the spray hose, pointing it into his mouth and using it to rinse.

It must have flown onto his spoon while he was distracted, and Dave didn’t notice until it was too late. He would say “Poor Thing,” but he was a bit grossed out at the moment. He did not feel like giving any sympathy to a bug that messed with his breakfast.

He leans against the sink for a few minutes when he’s done, the water now off, just breathing, getting his cool back together. His appetite isn’t quite ruined, but if he wants to keep eating, he’ll have to get a new spoon, because he was not re-using the one he just used.

He turns back around to grab the spoon.

He catches sight of the bowl. And freezes.

To make sure he isn’t imagining, he gets closer, leans on the table to peer down at it.

In the bowl, more stink bugs swim around and crawl about in his food, some even venturing over the rim and onto the table. But they aren’t the only bug in there, oh no. There’s flies and rolly pollies, too, and he thinks there are larvae as well, all of them throwing what looked like a little party in what was supposed to be his breakfast, now turned bug palooza. His glasses almost slip off as he goes slack jawed. Dave stumbles away, pushing them back on his face, closing his mouth. He swallows.

What the fuck, what the fuck, _what the fuck._ Why the fuck are there bugs in his cereal and where the fuck did they come from. 

He flails before running to grab a towel from under the sink. He grabs a random one, the hideously jaring orange shade of it the last thing on his mind as he folds it over is hands.

He wastes no time in grabbing the bowl and putting it into the sink, shaking the rag out to get rid of the few who cling to it.

He turns the water on again, all the way to hot to drown and scald the insects, watching them flip out, try to swim away from the drain they swirl down. 

Then he runs over to the table, scooping up the stragglers and delivering them to the little bug hell he made in the sink. 

He’s a bit out of breath by the time he’s done, and his appetite is gone completely.

He swallows again. 

God, what the hell do you even do after that? What do you do in situations like this? Do you just not . . . Say anything? And if you do say something, who do you tell?

. . . Rose. He should tell Rose.

Dave sprints to his bedroom and dives for the phone on the bed, opening Pesterchum and selecting Rose’s handle.

**\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --**

**TG: rose**

**TG: rose I need to talk to you**

**TG: rose come on I know you’re on**

**TT: hello to you, too, dave.**

**TG: and so she appears at last**

**TG: rose i’m flipping my shit**

**TG: like in a bad way i’m serious i’m flipping my absolute shit.**

**TT: what happened.**

**TG: okay so this is gonna sound weird**

**TG: but**

**TG: i was eating cereal**

**TG: minding my business**

**TG: and suddenly i heard a crunch even though my cereal was soggy.**

**TG: and i looked at the spoon**

**TG: there was a dead bug on it.**

**TT: ew.**

**TG: just wait it gets worse.**

**TT: oh joy.**

**TG: yeah anyways**

**TG: i went to go spit it out**

**TG: and when I turned back around**

**TG: my whole bowl was filled with bugs**

**TG: it’s like the Chad stink bug that I murdered invited all his little bug friends to have a beach party in my breakfast like some episode of Yo Gabba Gabba**

**TG: they were all just chilling in there like it was a jacuzzi and they were the CEO of the jacuzzi company.**

**TT: one, gross.**

**TG: i know**

**TT: two, wonderful analogy as always, Dave.**

**TG: thank you, thank you**

**TT: you’re welcome. and three, how does that even happen.**

**TG: i don’t know**

**TT: and you thought i would?**

**TG: . . .**

**TG: well**

**TT: dave. david. strider.**

**TG: you’re the one who’s into weird arcane BS and psychology not me**

**TT: true.**

**TT: well, first things first, are you sure it was real?**

**TG: the bug in my mouth**

**TG: absolutely.**

**TG: the bugs in the bowl**

**TG: i have no clue**

**TT: did you stay up late again?**

Dave pauses. He did stay up late, yes, turning in missing assignments for school. He stayed up pretty late. And getting woken up so early did not help ease his tiredness. He rubs at his eyes, pushing his shades up.

**TG: yeah kind of late**

**TT: how late?**

**TG: like 1 AM**

**TT: when did you wake up? it’s a little past seven right now.**

**TG: . . .**

**TG: at around like 4**

**TT: . . .**

**TT: dave.**

**TG: i know i know how irresponsible of me**

**TG: a teenage rebel**

**TT: you’re not a rebel, dave, you’re socially awkward and a bit of an outcast who's emotionally constipated. we’ve talked about this. as your pseudo-therapist i am disappointed.**

**TG: shut up miss I-Live-In-A-Sprawling-Mansion-That-I-Think-Might-Be-Haunted-By-Lovecraftian-Horrors.**

**TT: you shut up.**

**TT: but moving on.**

**TT: it’s possible that your lack of sleep is making you see things that aren’t real.**

**TT: it’s happened to me before.**

**TT: so I kind of know where you’re coming from.**

**TG: it looked a little too real**

**TT: maybe, but everyone’s minds are different. so it’s very possible that you thought your bowl was filled with bugs when in reality you actually just wasted some perfectly good cereal.**

**TG: i’m not very convinced**

**TG: but**

**TG: you make some good points**

**TG: so for my own sake**

**TG: i will pretend i believe you**

**TG: so like**

**TG: thanks i guess.**

**TT: you’re welcome.**

**TT: anything else you want to tell me?**

**TG: yeah**

**TG: do your damn homework**

**TT: oh, fuck you for that one, dave, fuck you.**

**TT: . . .**

**TT: thanks for the reminder, though.**

**TG: no problem lmao**

**TT: now begone with you, i must write about the inherent intimacy of lush stores and their employees for English.**

**\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --**

Dave huffs a laugh and then sighs, lets his phone drop on the mattress, and leans his head down to touch the sheets.

His heart was beating fast from the experience, it seemed, still reeling like a film wheel on high speed.

He stays there for a bit, on his knees, against the bed, head down, and breathing. 

He lets out a sigh as he gets up and looks around the room.

He really needs to clean it. Maybe that will provide the proper distraction he needs. He should get dressed first, though. That might help too.

He grabs a t-shirt with Fanta printed on the front, one of his binders, and the most comfortable pair of basketball shorts he has that are probably like ten years old. He steps in the bathroom looking like a mess and comes out looking more decent and human. 

The wonders of dry shampoo and washing your face. Basic self care never ceases to amaze him. He runs a hand through his hair, and it feels much better.

And so Dave sets to work, taking the trash and dishes out, straightening his bed, hell, he even vacuums the carpet flooring (it sounded so . . . _Crispy. Jesus._ Even if the sound was satisfying, he should really vacuum more). He gets distracted several times, though, messing around with random things he finds and checking his phone and just forgetting the current goal every few minutes in the process. He plays some music, too, to get in the mood. Has his own little dance party with one of the marionettes hanging in the hallway.

He shoots a couple messages to Karkat, who answers almost immediately as though he were waiting for Dave, and they go back and forth for a bit before Dave bids him goodbye after he tells Karkat he’s cleaning, to which Karkat then yelled at him to get off his lazy ass and finish it before talking to him again.

Apparently, the dude did _not_ like Dave having a messy room. Psh. Weirdo. But also, how sweet.

It takes about an hour and a half to get the whole thing done, and by then the bug incident has completely slipped his mind. Record time, if you ask him. His last time cleaning the room, it took about two hours, and before that, it took three. He’s been getting faster through sheer spite after missing out on dinner one time.

Let it be known that Dave Strider will do just about anything for Pizza Hut Breadsticks.

He gets air freshener from the closet in the bathroom, some Febreze, AKA the good shit. It makes everything smell like a laundry room, which is a nice smell, he swears it, and it’s a smell that Dave likes a lot. Bro prefers the Vanilla scent more, and he could use that, they bought it when they bought Dave’s, but Dave’s room equals Dave’s rules, and therefore his room will smell like clothes from the dryer as long as he’s standing. 

As he’s standing in the middle of his room, getting ready to spray it, there’s a loud _thump!_ from above, in front of him

Dave shrugs it off. The neighbors upstairs can be loud, sometimes regrettably so. It’s not unusual to hear thumps and thuds all around, that’s just how apartments are. You hear stuff all the time. 

He pulls the can’s trigger as he hears another thump, and it sounds like it moved backwards, towards him. No biggie.

He hears it again as the can begins to spray, louder this time, and even further back, even closer. This gets him to let up on the trigger and listen.

The next thump comes sooner than expected, and it’s even further back, now above him.

Dave realizes the sound is being carried towards his closed door, and he knows the neighbors above have the same layout of his apartment, all of them do, all of them have the same flooring plan. 

The thump comes sooner again, moving further. He tilts his head back to look at the spot where he thinks it came from.

Once again, too soon for his liking, the thump, further back, and he has to turn around to look at the estimated spot.

There’s something . . . Foreboding, about that noise. He doesn’t like it. 

The next thump actually makes him jump. It sounds like it’s closer to his ceiling and farther from his neighbor's floor, and it keeps happening quicker moving further.

He anticipates the next one, and the one after, and sure enough, in quick succession, _thump, thump!_

And it keeps going. Louder, faster, further. 

Dave follows the noise, stepping closer to his door. The thumping gets faster, like his heartbeat somehow projected itself around the room. 

And then it starts to travel down the wall on top of the door, faster still. It gets to the top of the door and Dave expects it to keep going.

It doesn't.

It goes quiet all of the sudden. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He arms himself with the air freshener, pointing it at the door, as he takes a step closer to it. He doesn’t have any of his swords nearby, all of them sitting in the bathroom so he could clean them, sharpen them, get them in top notch working condition, so his air freshener will have to do.

Then, three quiet knocks. Not all at once, but they still come in a way that he hates.

The first knock comes when he’s still, and it pushes him to move, a strange mix of cold fear and anger in his stomach, like his fight or flight response was stuck between Freeze Like Ice In The Arctic and WWE Smackdown On A Bitch.

The second knock comes when he’s walking towards the door, a little louder, a little more insistent. It makes him pick up the pace, raise the can higher. He feels like he’s in a horror movie, and it’s a weird experience that feels almost out of body, but not quite. It’s like he knows it’s happening, and that he can’t believe it, but at the same time knows that this is really the reality for him.

The final knock comes when he places a hand on the knob, and hey, when did his hands get so sweaty? Damn, that’s not cool. 

The knock itself is loud, echoing in the quiet room, and Dave takes a deep breath in. The sound reminds him of a church bell’s final toll after a funeral session, something that signified the true end to ones, well, end.

Dave yanks the door open without a sound, no war cry or shout, just silence, because that’s how Striders roll, spraying in the vague direction of where a face would be. 

He stops spraying after a good, long fifteen seconds, lowers the can, and . . .

Nothing. There’s nothing in front of him. There’s nothing, no _one_. 

There’s a sudden _kathunk-tink!_ from down the hall, and Dave moves quick. 

He holds the air freshener in front of him with both hands, like a gun, shuffling down the hall towards the bathroom from where he heard the noise, head held high as he stares at the door, which is slightly cracked open and creaking with it’s minute swings. He feels like a secret agent in some big time drug bust with a powerful gang involved, like from some cop show. Like Bones or Law and Order. Ha.

Focus, Strider, _focus._ This is a serious situation that requires his utmost attention.

There’s someone in the apartment and he needs to beat the shit out of them for messing with him, _the_ David E. Strider, of all people.

You don’t mess with the Striders and come out unscathed. Or come out on top for that matter. Striders never lose. Ever.

And Dave sure as hell won’t lose to some dickwad trying to fuck with him, he won’t play their games, oh no, he’s gonna turn the tables on their ass, make them eat dirt. Yeah, yeah, good plan.

And then he remembers the swords. In the bathroom. It makes his shuffling falter. He swallows.

Shit, shit, fuck, _shit_ , god _dammit._

_Don’t panic,_ he thinks, _don’t panic, stay cool, play it cool._

God, he can’t catch a break today, can he? First the weird watched feeling, then the bugs, and now this. Can’t the world just slow down a bit for now? Stuff is moving way too fast for him, like at-least-take-him-to-dinner-first-damn kind of fast, too much at once, too hot to handle.

He’s halfway down the hall now. He can’t tell if he can hear rustling in the bathroom or if it’s just his imagination going into overdrive faster than Kylo Ren’s laser. 

His breath is coming out a bit too shaky for his liking, so he takes several deep ones. And with those breaths, his heart beat stutters in his ears, in his chest, until it smooths out into its usual flow. It helps calm him, and it clears his mind.

He’s in front of the door now.

He swears he can hear breathing. It sounds wheezy, wet, loud and clear. It sounds ill and painful.

It sounds . . . Familiar?

Dave lifts his right foot and kicks the door wide open with so much force that it rebounds against the wall, shaking on its hinges.

He sprays again, longer this time, and when he stops . . .

Still nothing. 

Well.

Not quite, it turns out.

Something hits his foot and he nearly loses it, catching himself just in time before a . . . _Manly_ squeak leaves his throat.

He looks down and sees . . .

Air freshener. Another can of sweet, sweet air freshener.

Carefully, he crouches down, picks it up, reads the label.

. . . It’s Bro’s air freshener? He lifts it to his nose, sniffs, and yeah, it’s the vanilla one. The smell is calming, like a Pavlovian effect. Warmth, comfort, and kindness usually followed the scent, and on the rare occasions that it didn’t, it still made him feel at peace, collected, well put together like he should be. 

Dave looks at the closet, where it was supposed to be but, apparently, was not.

It’s closed shut, and he even reaches up to tug at the knob to make sure, and yep, shut tight like it should be.

Slowly, he stands back up, and looks around the room.

Nothing seems out of place, besides the air freshener, and it’s too small for someone to hide in it. Any and all nooks and crannies were filled to the brim, the bathroom itself a mess of colors and items. Puppets shoved in the vents and hanging from the shower curtain, swords in the tub and under the sink, laundry and rugs all over, you get the gist of it. Point is, it’s messy, too messy for someone to hide. Really, there’s no safe place here to hide in, or one big enough to fit a human as that. 

So that leaves two questions: One, where did they go? And two, what was with the whole thumping deal and this?

With the first question, the only thing he can logically think of is the window, at the top of the wall across from him. It’s small, but if you were small enough or had enough will power to push yourself, you could slip through there with no problem. And Dave did take an awfully long time to get to the bathroom, to which he now berates himself for. 

Oh, what if he let them get away? What if they took something? Were they trying to play a prank in the process? There has to be some form of logic here, like for the bugs, but what?

Which leads to the second question, the thumping and the fucking around.

The only explanation he can think of for that is: Coincidence and an attempt to stop and distract him. And he has some sound enough reasoning for it, too.

The upstairs neighbors had the same floor plan as his, and therefore that means their bedroom/laundry room is above his (yes so what his room was _supposed_ to be for the washing machines and shit, what of it?). 

The neighbor directly above him is also a hardcore raver, always going out to clubs and coming home late, more often than not drunker than the sailor from that one old sea shanty. 

So there’s two possibilities.

The first, they had their laundry going, but it was an uneven load, making the machine thump around. 

The second, they were currently waking up from a raging hangover and stumbling around like a baby bird about to leave the comfort of its nest. 

The intruder must have heard it, whichever it was, and got confused, wondering if it was Dave, so they must have knocked to check. They must have heard _him_ , somehow, and took off down the hall into the bathroom, which led to them opening the window, which led to them escaping.

Which also led to them needing some time to get away, so they had to have opened the closet and knocked the air freshener out as a distraction.

Just then, his phone buzzes from inside his pocket. 

Hesitantly, he pulls it out to see what it is. And he relaxes.

It’s just Jade hitting him up on Pesterchum.

**\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --**

**GG: dave!!! is everything alright? my senses are tingling right now! going all over the place! and something tells me it has to do with you!**

**TG: shit hey uh im a bit busy right now**

**GG: with what???**

**TG: well**

**TG: uh**

**GG: come on, dave! time sensitive question! it’s important, i gotta know!**

**TG: i was cleaning up my room and gettin ready to make it smell fresh as fuck**

**GG: oh, phew, nice!**

**TG: and i think someone broke into my apartment and then dipped as soon as they realized i was here**

**GG: WHAT!!!**

**GG: are you ok!?!?!? is your bro there???**

**TG: keywords**

**TG: i think**

**TG: not too sure cause uh**

**TG: its weird**

**TG: also yeah im fine but no im alone today cause bro is busy so i got the whole place to myself**

**TG: gonna throw a wild party like in the movies n shit yknow**

**TG: gonna invite all the other cool kids and hot chicks and jocks over its gonna be like those coming of age films**

**TG: and then some nerd outcast is gonna come in and duke it out with me to prove himself**

**GG: oh my god! now is not the time for your rambles, dave! you just had a stranger in your apartment!**

**GG: are you sure you’re alright? Are they really gone?**

**TG: oh they’re gone alright**

**TG: but**

**TG: i need to check around and see whats good and make sure nothing is missing**

**TG: dont wanna get my ass beat for losin shit**

**GG: dave I think your bro would care more about you than one of his swords! please be careful!**

**GG: oh, this is so stressful!**

**TG: youre tellin me**

**TG: ill talk to you later ok**

**TG: promise ill come back**

**TG: scouts honor**

**GG: you’re not even a scout!**

**GG: but . . .**

**GG: ugh, ok, i’m trusting you on this one dave! you better come back!**

**TG: hell yeah you know i never leave my homies hanging for long**

**\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] --**

Dave pockets his phone and stands back up, contemplating.

What should he do next? Where should he start? 

. . . Well for one, he could put the air freshener away. Silly Dave, why do you have two out? So not cool to just leave things out like that or have more than you need necessary.

He pulls the closet open, dodges a landslide of puppet rumps and small knives (another trap probably placed by the intruder), and puts the can back where it belongs, on Bro’s shelf of Bro’s Bathroom ThingsTM. To which he then proceeds to stuff with the puppets and knives that fell out, essentially booby trapping it once more. 

Now, with that done, he supposes he should go around and see if anything’s actually missing.

He wasn’t kidding when he said that Bro would beat his ass, and he needs to know if he needs to go out and replace something before the oldest Strider gets home.

But first he should probably lock the window back up. Don’t want no more strangers coming in. 

He hates the window, mostly because he has to stand on either his tip toes or a chair or whatever to reach the latch. 

He walks over, reaches up, and struggles, hoping that he won’t need a boost this time.

And . . . Aha! There!

The tips of his fingers catch on the latch (ew, it’s _wet_ , he’s gonna wash his hands after this), and, with a little more struggling, he manages to push it to the side, just enough to hear the _click_.

He steps away, turns to the sink, washes his hands, and leaves to search the rest of the apartment.

The rest of the day passes by without much fanfare. Nothing was stolen or damaged, so he didn’t need to get any replacements. He talks to Jade and June for a bit, plays some games, watches a classic hallmark movie, picks up a bit to keep the boredom at bay, the usual. Hours pass, the sun sets, and nothing strange happens. The incidents slip from his mind entirely, except for someone breaking in of course, that was something he couldn’t forget. But he did forget how they fucked around with him a little at least.

Dave gets a text at around seven, and Bro comes home at around eight, saying his usual greeting of “Sup,” and carrying takeout. They eat together, as they usually do. Dave does not mention anything that happened today because it was a sort of rule, that if Dave could handle it, whatever it was, then he didn’t need to tell anyone unless he wanted to, and he didn’t want to tell Bro unless he wanted to get hounded for details. Then they do their own things, with at least a couple strifes thrown in, up until ten rolls around.

Dave goes to bed pretty easy, or as easy as one Strider can when having to anticipate whatever silly little trap his Bro has in store for the night.

(Perhaps if he had mentioned the break in and how it went down, he would have learned that the neighbors upstairs had been out all day, and he would have learned that Bro was out of his own air freshener, the last can thrown out a couple of days ago.)

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you thought!


End file.
